The Problem With Amnesia
by Chick With Brains
Summary: "Listen, I don't care who you are or what you want. I refuse to believe that I'm your spy." An alternate ending to Crocodile Tears. Warning: spoilers! R & R! T for violence and just to be safe.
1. Who are you?

**A/N: Welcome to my first Alex Rider fic! This is an alternate ending to Crocodile Tears in which lots has changed. I tried to make sure they wouldn't be, but characters may be a little OOC.**

**Note: In my version, Straik was not yet killed by McCain. Just so you know, he didn't come back from the dead or anything like that. Plus, I am not Anthony Horowitz (duh) so all rights go to him.**

Rahim stopped mid-sentence and slumped over the controls of the plane. It took Alex a moment to notice the gaping hole in the side of his head. It took him just a split second more to see the two men with guns pointed at him, a huge black man and one who looked like he should be an accountant. No need to ask them who they were, Alex knew them all too well. Leonard Straik and Desmond McCain.

McCain glared at Alex as if he could burn a hole in him with his eyes. "Get. Out. Of. The. Plane." he spit out at Alex.

"What if I don't want to?" he said. Yes, not the smartest thing to say, but what else was there to say?

"Unless you wish to die a painful death, you _will_ get out of that plane." McCain demanded. Alex had no choice but to do so, the guns following him as he stepped out.

"Just give it up," he said. "There won't be any epidemic. It's all over."

Straik frowned. "We are already aware of that. The problem is, you know too much now. You might be just fourteen, but you should know by now what happens if you know too much."

Alex did not answer. There was no need to.

McCain held tighter to the gun. "Now, tell me what you now know about me. That I am an adult, and you are just a child. That I cannot be stopped, especially not by you."

Alex answered, "Forget it. I'm not playing your games."

Straik narrowed his eyes. "We will see what you say later when you're about to die."

This was answered by a swift kick in the gut. Straik's breath was knocked out of him and he doubled over, giving Alex the chance to give him a final blow to the head. The genetic engineer fell over unconscious, and McCain yelled in fury. "Idiot! Beaten by a child!" He pulled the trigger on his gun, sending a fatal bullet into Straik.

Alex could only watch as the scene unfolded. McCain said, "He was useless to me. You are, too." He threw his gun aside and lunged at Alex.

Alex tried to get out of the way. He was fast, but McCain was faster. Alex was thrown down. His head banged the wheel of the Piper and he lay still.

McCain looked over at the boy spy, believing that he was dead. He pushed him out of the way and climbed into the plane.

That wasn't very smart of him. He should've known, it takes a lot more than that to kill a boy like Alex Rider.

* * *

Mrs. Jones unwrapped a peppermint, her tenth one that day, and waited. That is, after all, what you're meant to do in a hospital waiting room. To her left was Alan Blunt. To her right was Jack Starbright.

"Well, it looks like Alex is in the hospital again because of _you_." Jack said angrily.

Mrs. Jones sighed. "He works for us. Ending up in a hospital is just an occupational hazard."

"So is dying!" yelled Jack. "Alex never wanted to be a part of this. He's much too young to be a spy!"

She stopped her rant abruptly when she noticed an elderly couple across the room giving them funny looks. She continued in a whisper, "Thank God he wasn't killed. You know, that could've happened, considering what you've thrown him into."

"What _we've_ thrown him into? I don't think you did anything to stop-"

Blunt cut in. "Look, you two arguing will not make Alex heal faster."

The nurse poked her head into the waiting room and waved them in. The old couple was still looking at them strangely.

The nurse led them to Alex's room and stopped. "For now, he's stable but still unconscious. You can see him for the next fifteen minutes, but no longer."

They walked into the room, preparing for what they might see. Even so, Jack was still shocked at the array of tubes connected to Alex. He was bruised and scratched all over, but most noticeable of his injuries was an ugly knot on the right side of his forehead.

"Oh my goodness, Alex!" Jack whispered/shouted. Jones and Blunt had no comment.

They stood in silence, not knowing what to do or say. Mrs. Jones was first to break the silence. "As I was saying, you could have told Alex not to-"

"Shhhhhh!" said Jack. "He's waking up."

Alex grunted and leaned his head to the side, then slowly blinked his eyes open. He looked at him like he was seeing them through a thick fog.

"Alex," Blunt said, "are you feeling alright?" Alex had a confused look on his face.

"Who...are you?" he moaned.

_Oh no,_ Jones thought. _Not amnesia. That's the last thing he needs. The last thing we need, too._

"Um, Blunt, could I speak to you in the hallway for a minute?" she asked. Blunt agreed, and they left Jack and Alex.

"Did you hear that? He doesn't remember!" she said.

"Please, Tulip, don't worry. Amnesia rarely lasts long. Besides, he may just be confused. You do remember that he's just seen two men get shot, and he's had a pretty severe head injury."

Mrs. Jones refused to not worry. "_You_ remember, don't you? As inconvenient as it is right now, we still need Alex Rider. McCain got away, and who knows what he's planning now!" She tried to calm herself down.

"Let's just go back in there, okay?" Blunt stated calmly. Jones responded with a nod.

When they entered the room, Jack was kneeling by Alex's bed, telling Alex random details about his life. "I'm Jack, your housekeeper. You live with me. You go to a school called Brookland. You have friends named Tom and Sabina." She didn't seem to notice the agents walking in.

"How is he?" Blunt questioned.

Jack shook her head in despair. "He just doesn't remember anything that I can tell. I need to talk to that nurse- where is she, anyway?" With that, Jack hurried out the door.

Jones checked her watch. They now had eight minutes left. Alex turned his head and focused on them, squinting his eyes. "Tell me how I got here, you two. That woman, Jack, won't tell me."

"Well, it's sort of a long story," Blunt began. "It started when your uncle- Ian, you might know- was killed. He was a spy."

A cloud of doubt floated over Alex's face. "No, seriously. What's happened?"

"Alex, we're telling you the truth." Mrs. Jones walked over to his bedside and kneeled down like Jack did. "You are a spy, too."

Alex made a sound somewhere in between a laugh and a grunt. "Who are you people? I mean, really?"

"Please, Alex," Blunt pleaded. "You have to believe us. We're agents for MI6. You were our spy. We still need you."

Alex was suddenly angry. "Listen, I don't care who you are or what you want. I refuse to believe that I'm your spy!"

The two backed away. Blunt gave Jones a look that said _Let's-leave-before-he-does-something-destructive. _Silently, they walked out.

_That's the problem with amnesia,_ Blunt thought. _It makes people different, takes away what they knew. Most of all, it sets them apart from you. Just when you need them most._

**A/N: To be continued! I don't mind flames, and CC is welcome. Please review! :)**


	2. Getting To Know Yourself

**A/N: Next chapter is up! Something random: On Saturday I saw I Am Number Four, whose main character was played by Alex Pettyfer, who is hot, and who also played Alex Rider in Alex Rider: Operation Stormbreaker. Just in case any of you wanted to know that.**

Jack ran down the hospital hallway, which was most likely against the rules, but at this point Jack didn't care. She needed to catch up with Alex's nurse.

She finally found her walking past room 806. Jack waved her down and she reluctantly stopped.

"What is it, Ms. Starbright?" the nurse said with an obviously fake smile. Her name tag said Dr. Reisman. **(A/N: Would she be called Doctor or Nurse, or would she just be Mrs.? IDK)**

_Where to begin?_ Jack wondered. "Well, you remember Alex, right?"

"I don't normally forget my patients, ma'am," Reisman replied in as friendly a way as possible.

Jack sighed. "Good, you remember. Anyway, after he got his head hurt, he seems like he's got amnesia! What am I supposed to do?"

"First of all, calm down. Amnesia is rarely serious or permanent. Second, let me explain what's happened. Mr. Rider's type of amnesia is called post-traumatic retrograde amnesia, which simply means he's forgotten past events due to a head injury..."

The explanation went on, but Jack wasn't paying attention. All she wanted to know was how to fix this. However, Dr. Reisman seemed to be purposely leaving that information out.

"...and that's pretty much it. Any questions?"

"You haven't told me how amnesia is cured yet," Jack said.

The question seemed to catch her off guard. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing_ I _can really do for him. Why do you ask?"

This angered Jack. "You might not know this, but I am this boy's legal guardian, not just some far-off American relative. I care about whether or not he's okay."

Jack knew that this would make Dr. Reisman mad. She knew what type of person she was. The woman had been given numerous hours of training for this job, and she wanted to think that she knew everything there was to know about nursing. She was kind enough when she wanted to be, but she sure didn't appreciate it when others bugged her.

Frowning, the nurse said, "There's no special drug or treatment that will just cure amnesia. You just have to let time go by and pray that he will improve. Also, I've heard that memories can sometimes be triggered by seeing a familiar face or hearing a loved one's voice, although to me the idea sounds like it came from a soap opera. So, try letting Alex look through a photo album; see if that helps. Any questions he has about his past, answer them. And again, don't worry too much about him. The injury wasn't too severe and his memories are likely to return."

"Thanks a bunch, Reisman," Jack said before turning and going back to Alex's room. When she came back in, the MI6 agents were gone. Thank goodness.

Alex looked as healthy as ever, if you took away the bruises and head bump. He was asleep in his bed, maybe dreaming. Good dreams, Jack hoped.

* * *

Alex should have been thrilled. He was out of the hospital two days earlier than expected, and he was alive. That's the problem with amnesia, though. It has a way of ruining what would otherwise be a happy event. You have a life, then it's gone and it might not be back. It was as simple as that.

The woman who had introduced herself as Jack was in the kitchen heating up some leftovers in the microwave, which would be greatly enjoyed after so many days of what they gave him at the hospital. Alex trusted Jack. He didn't know her, really, but he knew she cared about him. She was totally unlike those two who tried to give him a bunch of lies.

Jack took the un-refrigerated fish out of the microwave and set it on the table. Alex came to the table, sat down, and waited until dinner was served.

In between mouthfuls of food, Jack filled him in on his life. His parents both died in a plane crash when he was a baby. His uncle Ian stayed with him and Jack was their housekeeper for most of his life.

The name Ian reminded Alex of his conversation with the "agents". He had to ask Jack about that sometime, but for some reason, he decided not to ask right then.

"You've been going to school at Brookland for the past year or two. You met Tom, your best friend, there. You met your other friend, Sabina, as a ball boy at Wimbledon."

He only had two friends? Better than none, he supposed.

"You like video games and football, and you've traveled a lot. To France, Italy, America-all over the map. Ian took you everywhere, before he was, um, in a car crash earlier this year."

Well, that settled it. If Ian Rider had been a spy, he would've been shot or stabbed, not in a car crash. But, had Jack been about to say something different?

"You're a very talented person, I believe. You've got good grades, even if you've missed a lot of school-"

Alex made a mental note to find out why that was.

"-you have a black belt in karate, you speak French and German, and you can scuba dive."

Alex laughed, which he didn't think he'd done in a while. "I sound like a very nice guy," he said.

Jack nodded. "Believe me, you are." She saw Alex yawn and suggested that maybe he should get some sleep.

Alex walked into his room and looked in the mirror. It was the first time he'd done so since his injury, and he wasn't sure what he would see. What he saw was a fair-haired teenage boy with big brown eyes. He was tall and slim with a nice tan. Alex wouldn't have said so to anyone because he would sound self-centered, but he thought he was kind of good-looking, even if the knot on his head and his scars ruined the picture.

Alex brushed his teeth, got into bed, and grabbed a book from his nightstand. It was some old classic he'd been given for school. He would have tried to read it if there weren't so many questions swimming through his head.

_Did his amnesia really result from him hitting a tree on his bike?_

_What did the agents want with him?_

_Was Ian Rider all that Jack said he was?_

_Was Jack hiding something about his life?_

For all Alex knew, maybe he had been attacked by some maniac instead of hitting that tree. He would have to think about that sometime when he wasn't so tired.

* * *

While Alex slept, Jack stayed awake. She did a few chores around the house, read another chapter of her new favorite novel, and looked up some of the more obscure words that Dr. Reisman had used in her description of amnesia. All the while, one question was weighing down her mind.

_Should she tell Alex about his life with MI6 or not?_

**A/N: Thanks for reading the chapter! If you just scrolled to the bottom without reading it, then go back up and start over. Then when you've read it, review!**

**I'm hoping to double the number of reviews before the next chapter comes, so review away!**


	3. Pictures of You, Pictures of Me

**A/N: Update! Sorry it's been so long, I've been busy. I'd really like to arrest the person that invented schoolwork... :P Anyway, I just started reading Scorpia Rising. I'm on chapter 10 and already loving it. Feel free to talk about it with me, but please no spoilers!**

At exactly three twenty-five PM on a cloudy Thursday, Mrs. Jones and Alan Blunt were pulling into the driveway of one very secret building, a modern two story building hidden by a housing development. If the average Joe on the street had walked up to it, they would read the sign on the mailbox and immediately see that it was the home of a man named Fredrick von Shluivenhouvfen. Of course, that's not a real name, this was not anyone's home, and no one knew that better than the prime minister and MI6.

They came here to discuss the situation of Alex Rider, which the prime minister still refused to put faith in. He was shaking his head in disbelief and calmly but forcefully swearing under his breath as he walked in, hoping that no one was around to see him in such a state. Surely these agents had figured out already that the supposedly poisoned wheat field had never even existed. Yet, they had called him here. What else could they want?

They sat down at an undecorated table in a plain white room- designed to draw as little attention as possible to passerbys who looked in the window- and pulled out a thick file. Alex Rider's file, filled with every detail of his life and every sticky situation he'd been in. At the front of the file were the papers discussing the Desmond McCain case. These were presented to the prime minister, who half-read, half-skimmed them and put them back down.

He cleared his throat and said, "So, you have reason to believe that this fourteen-year-old boy broke Simba Dam?"

"All the evidence we need," Mrs. Jones replied. "One of our investigators flew over and saw the dam breaking."

The prime minister looked at them doubtfully. "Are you sure it was Alex who caused that? I understand that you have great faith in this boy, but-"

Alan Blunt noticed the disbelief in his voice. He did not like being doubted, at all.

"Sir," he began, "with all due respect, Alex is not just any boy. He's the son of one of our greatest agents. The father in question had a brother who also worked for us, which you would know if you had read all the files. Alex has survived a nuclear bomb threat in Russia, an encounter with an insane billionaire just about a year ago, a run-in with Scorpia, not to mention a sniper's bullet that almost hit the heart. A genuine high-caliber bullet, sir. After all that, I think breaking a dilapidated old dam would be a small matter for Alex Rider."

Mrs. Jones looked calm, but on the inside she was staring open-mouthed at Blunt. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn that Alan Blunt had almost lost his temper over one of the most important government officials there was. This whole Alex Rider business was changing them both.

The prime minister looked almost as shocked as Mrs. Jones felt. He was starting to be very glad that he hadn't asked anyone to come with him to this meeting.

Now, what was the best way to respond to an angry agent? "I'm sure you're right, Mr. Blunt. May I ask, where is Alex now?"

Mrs. Jones spoke. "He's at home, far from any danger, but we're worri- um, concerned about his condition. You see, after his meeting with McCain, he has a case of amnesia. He doesn't have severe physical harm, and his brain isn't badly hurt, but we aren't sure about when or if his memories will return."

The minister nodded. It wasn't his place to say "I told you so", but they should have known that a mere child couldn't keep working for them forever.

"I wish the best to Alex. You may leave now," he said more as a command than a suggestion.

The two did leave, climbing into the taxi with shaded windows and weapons hidden in the dashboard. They rode in silence until they stepped out of the cab and into the Royal and General Bank.

Mrs. Jones was first to break the silence. "What do you think we should do with Alex Rider? I mean, involving his amnesia."

Blunt sighed. "As much as we need him, I think we should leave him be for now. You know, give him a while to rest and not have to worry about the spying life."

The spying life? That was a weird way to refer to it. But he had a good point.

"You're right. Let's leave Alex Rider alone. He has enough to worry about without MI6."

They had no way of knowing this, but Jack had chosen the same thing.

* * *

Alex wasn't sure how to feel. Sure, he liked the life that he'd been told about. The problem was that he couldn't remember a darn thing about it, for obvious reasons. What he knew about himself could be put on one sheet of paper in 36-point type.

He'd just eaten a breakfast of Jack's supposedly famous eight-minute scrambled eggs. They did taste good enough to be served in a four-star breakfast restaurant (if there was such a place), but he couldn't help but feel like Jack was hiding something that was on her mind.

After the breakfast, he looked around the living room, which he hadn't had a chance to do before. Alex looked at the room in the way of someone who is in a place for the first or second time: taking note of important objects, then scanning the room for details. One of those details was what looked like a small black notebook on a shelf above his head. Upon closer inspection, he found out it was a photo album.

Jack saw him pick up the book and commented, "Your nurse said that the photos could be a memory trigger for you. Might be a good idea to look through it."

Alex wondered about that. A memory trigger? He knew that meant an image, sound, or feeling that connected with something in your mind and brought back some or all of the lost memories. It was worth a try.

On the very front page was a picture of him and Jack together in front of their house, right above a photo of a young blond boy and a strong-looking man in his 30s or 40s. Beside the latter was a little note in Jack's handwriting.

_RIP Ian Rider. We will miss you._

So, this was the mysterious Ian Rider. He could guess that the little boy was him, Alex. He paused to see if he felt anything clicking into place in his mind, but there was nothing but the sound of the water running in the dishwasher.

More pictures followed those: a pretty dark-haired girl on a tennis court, Jack eating cotton candy at a carnival, and various school photos, most of which didn't turn out very well. And of course, there were pictures of him and Ian Rider. Why was it always Ian Rider that came up? Besides the family relation, what did Ian have to do with his life? Part of Alex wanted to just ignore it, but he knew, even in his limited memories, that Ian Rider was important. Still, nothing clicked.

Jack continued talking. "You know, Alex, I found out in my research that some people get lacunar amnesia," she remarked. She addressed Alex by name, but somehow seemed to be talking to herself. "That just means that the person forgets one specific event. There are some events I'd really like to forget. Like my first date with Johnny Fishburne-" She shuddered.

Alex gave a smile, but it disappeared just as quick as it appeared. He heard a tap-tapping on the roof, which grew louder and harder as it went on, and the crash of thunder outside.

_Hooray, now Mother Nature's trying to influence my emotions,_ he thought. _Just great._

**A/N: 1. First of all, I'm planning a plot twist in this story soon. It seemed to me that it was a little boring with Alex just taking about his amnesia, so I'll add something different in soon. Let's just say that Alex's amnesia life is about to collide with his spy life.**

**2. I just saw Sucker Punch today. I loved it, but I must admit that I don't really understand all of it. For example, was the dance club real, or was it all in Babydoll's head? (You need to see the movie to know what I'm talking about.) If anyone can enlighten me, please do!**

**3. Wow, this chapter was long. Should I do more longer chapters or keep them short (at 1000 words or so)?**


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